THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

– right before they handcuffed her.
    Taking Mason’s Saint-Gauden’s Double Eagle coins had stamped her death warrant. But they didn’t belong to Mason either. He’d stolen the rare pieces from a museum to trade for what he called a once-in-a-lifetime find. Some panel made out of amber from back in the fifteenth century.
    She smiled in spite of her pain.
    Mason would be empty handed when it came time to deliver the coins on Sunday.
    One more way to pay that bastard back . If she didn’t get caught by Mason or the FBI first.
    The FBI should be thrilled to have the stolen coins returned, and her testimony on Mason’s international crime ring. But no one would listen to her until she could prove she had no part in the original theft.
    Mason claimed he had evidence that would implicate her in the theft. And who would the authorities believe? A local dignitary or a nobody ex-con?
      As if someone had thrown a switch, the downpour fizzled into a steady shower. She burst through a break in the trees and slowed while her eyes adjusted, but moved forward steadily.
    The ground fell away. She stumbled down a short drop into a ditch, landing on her knees. No pain because adrenaline still rushed through her, but she’d have bruises on bruises after this. She climbed up and touched pavement.
    The runway .
    The good news? No fence around this airport. She scrambled to stand and drew a quaking breath. Freedom got closer by the minute.
    The bays of pursuit dogs pierced the night. They were closing in.
    A fence at this point might’ve had merits.
    Searching past the runway, she spotted the bright glow of an open hangar a quarter of a mile away. With no time to waste, she sprinted toward the illuminated area.
    Running felt good in spite of how her thigh throbbed. Blood trickled from the deep gash. Forcing her heart to pump harder only made her bleed more, but she’d survived worse.
    She softened her steps as she neared the hangar then crept to the edge of the building. A tall, lanky man in mechanic’s coveralls loaded boxes into a sleek twin-prop cargo plane.
    When the worker finished, he walked across the spotless floor toward a brightly lit office.
    She could just make out two men on the other side of a glass door. The mechanic pushed the door open and announced the airplane was ready to go.
    Angel hesitated. She’d always obeyed the law before. Now, the “slightly illegal things” she never would have done in the past just kept stacking up. Clenching her jaw against the unavoidable twinge of guilt, she made her decision.
    That was the old Angel.
    The new one wanted to survive and accepted that she’d never outrun those dogs on the ground.
    One way or another, she was leaving on that plane.
     
    Chapter 2
     
    Zane peered through the dull glass office door into the pristine hangar where Hack’s man loaded the last box into Zane’s Cessna 404 Titan. He moved over to the pot of strong coffee always ready for pilots and filled his thermos.
    “You ain’t listenin’, son.”
    “I have to make this run,” Zane answered Hack absently, then shifted around to face the terminal manager.
    “You cain’t be serious ‘bout flyin’ in this mess.”  Hack laid a dog-eared queen of spades down, completing another game of solitaire.
    Oh, yeah, dead serious . He had five days left to prove he deserved the charter contract High Vision Enterprises had up for grabs. The other two charter groups had enough equipment and personnel to cover deliveries anywhere in the continental US. Zane was already at a disadvantage in that he only wanted the southeastern region, but he’d impressed High Vision last week by delivering a shipment the other two carriers had turned down. This was another opportunity Zane wouldn’t pass up.
    Couldn’t pass up.
    Zane’s skills as a pilot had given him a reputation across the business for doing what couldn’t be done. His roster of clients had grown steadily since he’d opened for his first cargo flight. But he had other reasons for going after High Vision’s business. He had a deal on the side nobody knew about. That deal hinged on getting contracts with companies like High Vision – companies of interest to the DEA.
    The money he made on the side as an undercover informant would save his baby sister’s life. He’d almost lost her to her demons once.
    He’d unintentionally abandoned her when he went into the military. Not again.
    “I’ll be fine,” Zane said. Genetically engineered